


Back to You

by DayenuRose



Series: Back To You [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Road Trip, Secret Mission, Separation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23830372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Rogue and Remy really ought to know better than to become too comfortable with the current state of their lives. When Gambit is sent on a mission without Rogue, she has an uneasy presentiment about where things will go from here.
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Series: Back To You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626535
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter directly follows 'Prologue - Love is...' and makes infinitely more sense if you read the prologue first.

~Part One~

Rogue laid on her side facing the window with her back to the rest of the room. Her drowsy brain drifted between half-asleep and half-awake and left her uncertain if the hazy pleasant sensation lingering throughout her body was part of a dream or reality. Either way, she didn’t want to get up yet. The sun pooled golden warm through the gap in the curtains, telling her body, if not her mind, that it was time to get up. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping to tempt a few more minutes of sleep. It wasn’t often that she had the luxury to indulge in a lie in. 

Figaro curled up against her stomach, his contented purrs vibrated through her body. She tugged the covers a bit higher over her shoulders and snuggled a bit deeper beneath them. As she displaced the blankets around the cat, Figaro protested loudly, but refused to give up his cozy spot. Rogue chuckled softly and reached out from under the covers to appease the cat with a scritch between his ears. The bed was warm and comfortable and she wasn’t quite ready to leave it. Her body was so relaxed from all the recent attention she received, she felt as if she might just melt into the sheets. 

Her skin thrummed with the lingering aftereffects of her husband’s expert touch. She trusted Remy, which had translated into not fearing his touch. Without the fear, without needing to hold herself in a constant state of vigilance, she could luxuriate in his touch. Brushing her fingers along her skin, she traced the memory of his touch. She followed the paths where his fingers had lingered on bare skin and had caressed her from long into the previous night and into the early morning hours. Even after all this time, each new touch, every fresh caress, sent ripples of sensual pleasure across her skin and seeped into the very core of her being. The reminiscence of his touch lingered long after gloves were restored and inhibitors in place. She didn’t know if it was because she and Remy shared some kind of special connection, or if it had something to do with the constant energy he kept barely contained beneath his skin, or if it was all in her head, but the memory of his touch remained longer than any other touch she had ever known. 

Ready to begin again, Rogue sighed happily at the still fresh memories of their love making. Though her drowsy brain was still fuzzy with the edge of sleep and lingering pleasure, the headache which seemed to be her constant companion since regularly donning the inhibitors had rescinded to only an echo of a memory. Idly, she wondered if, after a year of frequent contact, her body had finally grown accustomed to the inhibitor and the headaches were a thing of the past. Highly doubtful, but she could dream. 

Scratching her wrist, she stopped abruptly when she didn’t encounter the expected obstacle. Odd. She switched to the opposite wrist and found it likewise bare. This wasn’t right, the inhibitor was gone. If the clasp had come undone…. _No!_

She scrambled among the covers searching for the missing bracelet, tangling the sheets around her flailing limbs. Figaro leapt off the bed with an irritated yowl. Her heart raced in a rising panic. Under the sheets she wore nothing. For obvious reasons, not since before they had married had she gone to bed regularly without either the inhibitor in place or fully covered. It was hard enough to control her powers when she was fully awake and conscious. What hope did she have while she slept? She stayed covered not only of her own protection, but also for….

“Remy!” Rogue called for her husband in a rising panic. 

He didn’t respond. That wasn’t like him. Years of living by their wits, of fearing discovery if they let down their guards, of being both hero and villain, had trained them to be light sleepers, ready to spring into action at the slightest disturbance. With her anxious calls, he should have been immediately at her side. Whenever the misdeeds of her past, the failed missions of the present, or the echoing screams of the souls she stole haunted her dreams and she woke terrified, not knowing where or who she was, Remy was always there to comfort and reassure her. Just as she was there for him when he woke screaming from his own guilt-laden nightmares of past, present, and future. 

Forcing the panic down, she held her breath ’til her head swam. Besides the thunder of her rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears, she heard nothing. No one pulled the stolen covers across the bed or made drowsy protests as she bolted upright, fighting the sheets which ensnared her arms and legs. 

_“Do ya like it, Cajun?” Her own voice echoed in her head as she watched herself spin, giving Remy—giving herself—a full view of the dove grey dress._

Mon dieu. Of course I like it. _Remy’s thoughts flooded her memories as clear as if they were her own thoughts. She gasped for air as she experienced the speechless awe that had stolen her—no, his—breath away at the sight of her._

“Remy!” she gasped in a strangled panicked cry. A rush of her husband’s recent memories surfaced at the forefront of her mind and overwhelmed her. The more of Remy that filled her thoughts, the less she could sense of herself. She struggled to separate her own memories from his about events of the previous evening.

Her breath came out in mangled sobs. Remy was gone. What had she done? If she had his memories, that could only mean one thing. She had absorbed him. _Not again._

Flinging an arm from the cocoon of sheets, she groped at his side of the bed. It took a long moment for her panic driven brain to register the reality of the situation. His side of the bed was empty, cool to the touch. He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for a while. She hadn’t hurt him. 

As this revelation finally broke through her blind panic, her breathing eventually returned to normal and her heart slowed. The bracelet was gone because Remy had taken it with him. He was gone because Kitty had called him— _not them_ —in for some kind of emergency. Despite herself, Rogue grinned as she continued to roll back her memories, detangling the ones that were hers alone from the ones that they had shared. 

_Oh, Remy._ Her sweet thief. Her rascally charmer. Her husband had shared his memories in exchange for a stolen kiss. She brushed her fingertips across her lips, which still tingled with the memory of his kisses. 

Last night she had eagerly anticipated that shared stolen moment of intimacy. She’d worn that particular bracelet as an invitation which Remy had read correctly and accepted with aplomb. What she hadn’t expected was to wake up without Remy by her side. Sometimes, when they shared memories like this, the memories would resurface later. If Remy wasn’t nearby when this happened, years of instinct took over and she’d momentarily forget how she came by those memories. 

“You better come back soon, swamp rat. Ah’m waiting for ya…” Rogue murmured as she rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. 

****

The hot water had washed away the sharp, hard edge of fear lodged in her chest. Though not altogether gone, the blind panic had subsided and left her feeling cold. As she wandered about their apartment, she didn’t bother to call out for Remy. If he had come home while she was in the shower, he would not have been shy about coming in and making his presence known. 

Rogue made her way into the kitchen, tracing her fingers along the edge of the counter. Her only plans for the weekend had been to spend as much quality time as possible with her husband. Without him, she found herself at a loss for what to do next. If he came home soon, they could pick up their plans where they’d left off. On the other hand, if whatever mission had called him away kept him busy for the remainder of the weekend, she ought to find something to keep her thoughts busy. She stopped as her gaze caught a King of Hearts left beside a plate of fresh pastries. Snapping up the card, she ran her fingers over the message Remy had scrawled across the card in his cramped hand. 

_My beloved Rogue, queen of my heart and love of my life, apparently the life of a hero waits for no one. I will be back soon. Until then, I leave my heart with you. Je t’aime. Love always, your husband forever, Remy_

A grin tugged at Rogue’s lips as she balanced the card against the edge of the plate. It was cheesy and sweet. And, it was just like her Remy. She hoped he knew that he carried her heart as well. How long could a person survive with their heart torn asunder? 

With a shake of her head, she tried to dispel the hollow feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Soon was such a nebulous designation. Kitty’s call had come in around four in the morning and it was now well after nine. Where in the world was he? Why hadn’t he left more of a note? Or, called by now?

Well, the phone worked two ways. Finding hers, she dialed Remy’s number and waited as it rang and rang until she was shuffled off to voicemail.

****

Rogue rolled out her pie crust for the second time that day. She’d overworked her first attempt as she fretted over Remy’s continued absence and ended up with a tough, rubbery dough rather than the flaky crust she’d intended. When he left, he said he’d be back soon and it was now well past noon. If he didn’t return before long, she’d need to consider re-thinking her plans to which the pie was only tiny part. While Remy had planned last night’s activities, today was her turn. 

She exhaled harshly in frustration, blowing strands of white hair out of her eyes. What was Kitty thinking? What was _Remy_ thinking? He of all people knew better. They were supposed to have the whole weekend to themselves. It was their anniversary for crying out loud. Kitty owed them at least that much after interrupting them on their honeymoon. 

Surely a few days to celebrate wasn’t asking too much? 

No, Rogue sighed. When your job was saving the world, apparently you weren’t allowed to dictate your own schedule. And Kitty had probably forgotten her promise to leave them be. Their fearless leader had been rather on edge lately. So much so that when her old Excalibur teammates had asked for hers and Kurt’s help, she’d agreed without a second thought. It was also why Rogue and Remy had decided against trying to take a trip for their anniversary this year. (Then again, being in space hadn’t stopped a call for help from reaching them). During her upcoming absence, Kitty had asked Rogue to cover for her as headmistress and team leader. Rogue had agreed to help her friend because she knew that it couldn’t be easy to see them celebrating on the day that should have been the other woman’s anniversary.

 _Not all anniversaries were good,_ Rogue thought with a sigh. They marked turning points in lives—momentous decisions for good or ill. Fingering the cool, gleaming metal of her wedding band, Rogue reflected that she could count the number of good anniversaries in her life on one hand and not even use all her fingers. Mainly, her life with Remy and joining the X-men and even those had their share of hard times. The list of negative anniversaries, on the other hand, was much longer. As for Kitty, Rogue suspected that time would eventually dull the edge of the pain, but they were only a year past the event and anniversaries had a habit of bringing all the emotions you thought you had dealt with to the surface. 

Only thing was, Rogue hadn’t expected Kitty to sabotage their plans by calling Remy away mid-celebration. It wouldn’t have been half so bad if they’d been sent together. 

Rogue grimaced as she took her frustration out on the pie and pressed too hard on the rolling pin, creating an unwanted, too-thin furrow in the dough. She backed away from the counter, not wanting to accidentally ruin another pie. Already this one was going to be far from pretty, but at least it’d be edible. 

What was Kitty thinking, calling Remy in on a mission? Without her. Rogue paced the apartment, her frustration seething around her in almost tangible waves. Not even the cats wanted to be in her presence. She didn’t blame them—she didn’t want to be in her own presence either. For some reason, this mission left a sour taste in her mouth. The source for this feeling of wrongness wasn’t something she can put her finger on. Only, Remy shouldn’t be out there alone. 

Rogue shook her head, trying to clear the doom and gloom crowding her thoughts. Though she might have psychic, seer, and prophet imprinted on her psyche, this dark presentiment was definitely all her own. Of course Remy wasn’t out there alone. Kitty wouldn’t have sent him without a team. Or, backup. Or….Or…. Rogue blew the white fringe out of her eyes. Why hadn’t she been sent with him? 

She gripped her hair and yelped as she the hairs pulled sharply against her scalp. Tears welled in her eyes at the sudden pain and the growing frustration that was morphing into anger. With the back of her hand she swiped at her eyes. She was not going to cry. She needed to do something, channel her energy into something useful. 

The jarring ring of her phone pulled Rogue out of her spiraling thoughts. Snapping up the device like it was a lifeline, she held the phone to her ear before the peal of the second ring. 

“Remy, sugah, where are ya?” She knew she sounded like an anxious school girl, but couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice. Over the years of their relationship, they’d spent enough time apart, that she knew he could handle himself. While he didn’t _need_ her, that didn’t stop them from _wanting_ to be there for each other. They were better together, a nigh on unstoppable team. And then there was that whole _’til death do you part thing._

“‘Bout an hour into Ohio, I t’ink.” Though he kept his tone light, almost bordering on carefree, she could hear the underlying irritation lacing his words. Something only she could discern.

Despite knowing he was equally irritated with the situation, Rogue couldn’t help but let her own anxiety bleed through. “What in the world are ya doin’ there Cajun? We have plans. What hare-brained scheme does Kitty have ya wrapped up in this time?” 

If it weren’t for the background buzz of traffic from a nearby interstate, Rogue would have thought the call had dropped. 

“Sugah….?” The unease eating away at the pit of her stomach intensified as she waited for an answer. 

“’m sorry, mon coeur. I’ll make it up t’ you.” Remy’s tone reminded her of the one he used whenever he thought he’d disappointed her. 

“Remy LeBeau…”

“Dis job’s important, chère. If Kitty’s information is correct, well, it could very well be a matter of life an’ death for us all.” 

“So, where ya goin’? Surely ya can tell me that much?” Rogue headed to the bedroom where she kept a spare uniform. It was still on top of the dresser where Remy had left it this morning when he still thought she’d be going with him. And now, she would. At the speeds she could fly, it wouldn’t take long for her to catch up.

Remy groaned. “Kitty made me promise not t’ tell anyone where ’m going. 'Sides de line's not secure and we can’ risk de details gettin' out.” 

“Then why’d ya call if ya can’t tell me anythin’?” Rogue fumed, regretting her outburst the moment it came out of her mouth. 

“’Cause I couldn’ leave town wit’out tellin’ you.” If words could be a caress, that was how he spoke. 

She swallowed hard, hating every aspect of this situation. “You ain’t playin’ fair, swamp rat.”

“I’m a t’ief, chère, fair’s not in my vocabulary,” he teased. She heard his cocky, charming grin and her heart melted a bit. 

Swallowing hard, Rogue slipped the king of hearts from her pocket. A flirtatious tease mingled with the tight edge of her unprecedented fears as she attempted to match his tone. “Ah got your note. Ya know, you’re a hopeless romantic, Cajun.” 

“Can’ help it, mon coeur. I’ve finally got my heart’s desire and I ain’ lettin’ go. Anyways, like you’re de one to talk.” His voice dropped to a low purr which sent shivers up her spine. Desire pooled in her depths and, for a moment, she could almost pretend he was across town rather than across several state lines. 

Rogue blushed scarlet. He was right about her being a hopeless romantic. She had once thought she’d given up on her dreams of a fairy tale life when she’d fallen for Gambit. As a scoundrel and a thief, he hadn’t met the classic definition of Prince Charming. Yet, despite everything working against her—against them—she had held onto the hope of happily ever after long after everyone else, except Remy, would have given up. After years of holding onto the fantasy, she’d finally come to understand that reality was so much better than the dream could ever be. 

The receiver caught the slight whisper of a card threading around his fingers. She bet she knew which card had captured his attention as they talked. “Ya got the Queen?” 

“Oui.” The cars stopped fluttering with a snap. A murmur of words she couldn’t quite catch was muffled as he pressed the card to his lips. He tapped against the sturdy leather of his duster, presumably over the pocket where he kept the card. “I keep her right over my heart.”

“Good, ‘Cause, ya know, the pair of them shouldn’t be separated. Ah’m countin’ on you to bring her back soon, Remy.” Though Rogue tried to sound stern, she couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile from echoing in her voice as they fell into the familiar pattern of banter. 

“Un instant, ma chère.” In the background of the call, something clicked loudly and Remy was momentarily distracted. When he returned his attention to the call, all traces of teasing were gone and he was once more serious. “If everyt’ing goes accordin’ t’ plan, I should be home in un week—deux at de most. Should be back ‘fore you’re done bein’ headmistress. We can pick up where we left off. I’ll even take you away dis time. Promise.” 

_Promise._ The word sunk to the pit of her stomach, mixing with the roiling unease and dark presentiments she had been trying to keep at bay. Rogue had been in the hero-ing business for too long not to expect the worse at the pronouncement of those words. She knew all to well that words like those had a propensity to foreshadow tragedy. “Remy, please, come home….”

“Désolé, mon coeur, I can’. Not yet. Soo—“ 

“Remy? Remy! Remy…” 

Only silence answered her plea. 

She tore the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen as it alerted her to the dropped call. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the phone at full strength. Glass splintered and metal twisted into unfamiliar contortions. She wanted to scream. Instead she threw the useless lump of technology across the room. The former phone cratered the door before it bounced off and landed harmlessly on the floor. This hadn’t been the first phone she destroyed with her super strength and it probably wouldn’t be her last, but at the moment, it was her only connection to Remy. If he tried to call back, he wouldn’t be able to reach her, and she had no idea where to find him. 

Sinking onto the bed, Rogue fingered the end of Remy’s forgotten charge cable. Lost in the ardor of the previous night, neither had thought about the mundanities of charging phones or picking up clothes. The battery had probably drained while he crossed the country on Kitty’s fool’s errand and he’d used the last of its reserves to call her. Not that a missing charger should prove much of an impediment for her man, but it was just another complication. He was probably trying to find an alternate way to contact her at this very moment. She wished she hadn’t crushed her phone. 

As if sensing her distress and her need for comfort, the cats crawled from their hiding places and settled about her. Lucifer nuzzled against her elbow with a plaintive mew while Figaro swished his tail rhythmically against her knees. Boldest of the three, Oliver curled up on her lap. Idly, she scratched the grey cat between his ears. He purred in response and closed his eyes, as if to say that everything would work out in the end. She wished she shared his sentiments. 

****

“Merde!” Remy cursed under his breath as he stared at the useless brick of a phone in his hand and resisted the urge to throw it to the ground. He’d forgotten to charge it and now, when he needed it the most, it had failed him. 

Though Rogue had tried to sound nonchalant during their brief conversation, he didn’t like the underlying tension to her voice. Tight and on edge. 

_Bad dreams,_ he supposed. It nearly broke his heart that he wasn’t there to comfort her as she always comforted him whenever he’d wake, voice raw from screaming, hands clawing restlessly at images that weren’t there. Bad dreams were an occupational hazard in their line of work. Since they had taken to not only sharing a bed, but a life as well, he had found the dreams manageable for the first time in his life.

Bad dreams or not, the worry in her voice left a bitter taste in his mouth concerning this job. Though she hadn’t said anything, he knew in his gut that she had sensed something was amiss. And, it wasn’t only the guilt sitting heavy in his heart because he had left his belle femme alone in bed on their anniversary while he drove across the country on Kitty’s errand. 

With the gas tank full and the fuel paid for, Gambit ought to be back on the road. He was on a time table which didn’t leave room for lollygagging in the middle of nowhere. Still, Remy hesitated. Giving his phone another glare, he pocketed it. Even once he managed to recharge the useless thing, he couldn’t risk calling from it again. He’d already pushed the limits of what he’d dared. Kitty would likely murder him for telling Rogue as much as he already had—which was no where near enough. He was on the job. Part of the contract was no contact with anyone until the first part was completed. Even then, all he was supposed to do was report in and receive further instructions. 

Surely Kitty would explain it all to Rogue. She had to. 

He shook his head. No, she wouldn’t risk it. Not only was Kitty about to leave town for a bit, she wasn’t likely to trust Rogue to behave rationally about the situation. His wife wasn’t happy about being left behind and in the dark. Her temper was bound to flare. And, Lord help you if you got on the wrong side of that temper. Of course, Rogue had every right to be angry about the situation. He was more than a little upset himself. But, it would be worth the temporary separation in the end, he'd seen to that... 

If Kitty told Rogue even half of what Remy was about to do, his wife would no doubt follow. He wouldn’t mind the backup, but that wasn’t the job. Still, he hoped Kitty would see reason. 

Unable to any longer contain the energy building inside his body without some sort of release, Remy scooped a stone from the ground and infused it with a small kinetic charge. Tossing it in the opposite direction of the gas station, he watched as the fuchsia explosion created a blackened divot in the gravel alongside the road. He flexed his fingers and forced the remaining energy to redistribute within his body. It wouldn’t do to create an explosion here. 

None of this made him feel any better. The restless energy jarred and left his nerves dancing on edge. His mind, his emotions, were all too volatile at the moment. Best he focus on the task at hand. 

But first, there had to be another way to contact his wife and let her know that he was okay. Pushing his sunglasses up and settling them on top of his head, Remy pinched the bridge of his nose, and massaged small circles at the juncture. Surveilling the area appeared to be somewhat of a lost cause. Nothing but winter wheat nearly ready for the early summer harvest surrounded the small, drab, brick building which served as gas station and convenience store for this rural community. 

Before giving it up as a loss cause and returning to the road, Remy spied a sun-faded blue and white sign tacked to the side of the building—a phone booth. He hadn’t seen a working one in ages. If anyplace was likely to have a working pay phone, surely this time displaced corner of the universe would still have one. 

All hopes were dashed as he rounded the corner of the building and found neither phone book nor phone. Nothing, but an empty shell of what once was. Nobody cared about the empty booth anymore, except those like Remy who were desperate for a miracle that would not come. 

With a wry grimace, Remy pulled a card at random from his deck—two of clubs—and tucked it in the gap where the dented and cratered platform met the graffitied back plate of the plexiglas and aluminum cubby. It would be a foolhardy to leave a message more overt than a simple playing card. 

Most people would see it and think someone had simply left another piece of refuse to gather in the corners of a forgotten time. But, he knew his wife. He was absolutely certain that Rogue would look for him. She wouldn’t let not knowing where he was or where he was going stop her. The least he could do was leave her a sign that he’d been there. He hoped it would ease her concern for him. 

While Remy was busy failing at his attempt to phone his wife, a beat-up brown pickup truck had pulled up to the opposite side of the gas pump. The driver, a short, heavyset man with a stained baseball cap pulled low over his brow, greeted Remy with a nod. After beginning the process of fueling his truck, the man cast an appreciative gaze over the X-man’s motorcycle. 

With an irritated sigh, Remy shifted aside all appearance of worry and slipped on the laissez-faire demeanor of a man traveling without a care in the world. Jamming his hands into the pockets of his duster, he fingered the edges of ubiquitous deck of playing cards he always kept close at hand. 

“Hey,” the stocky man said in a dialect that was pure mid-America. “That your bike?”

“Oui.” Remy snapped more curtly than he had intended. He knew he was being short with the man, but he didn’t want to spend the next fifteen minutes discussing the weather or the pros and cons of bike ownership or whatever else passed as smalltalk ‘round here. The sooner he finished the job, the sooner he could return home. 

“She’s a beaut. Custom job?” The man persisted on continuing the conversation despite Remy’s obvious disinterest. 

Of course the bike was a custom job, even a neophyte could tell that. Remy simply nodded, and drawled a lazy, “Merci.” 

The man left his truck to continue filling by itself while he crossed the divide to study the bike more closely. Crouching down on his haunches to get a better view of the engine, he grabbed the handle bars to steady himself. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, unsettling the green cap with a yellow John Deere logo. “So, are you like French or something?”

“Or, somet’in’. N’awlins.” Remy allowed his dialect to thickly infuse his words. At this point, it’d actually be drawing less attention to himself if he chatted with the other man for a moment. 

Never taking his eyes from the bike, the man pushed on with the unwanted conversation. “Hmm, never been there. Where you headed?” 

“Wherever da wind blows, homme.” Remy shrugged, playing himself off as nothing more than a vagabond traveller. Besides, it was an easy role to assume because once upon a time it had been true enough. These days he had a place—a person, really—he called home. She drew him back to her time and time again like an unerring homing beacon. 

For the first time since the conversation began, the man met Remy’s eyes in a steady stare. Despite the man’s genial manner, there was something hard in those cold, blue eyes. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothin’. Contacts.” Remy pushed his glasses down and straddled his motorcycle. He needed to be more careful. He was better than this and he couldn’t afford to slip up. There was someone precious waiting for him on the other end of this job and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make it home to her. “I should be goin’. Still have miles t’ go ‘fore de night.”

Before the man could reply, Remy revved his motorcycle with a roar and peeled out of the gas station, spewing loose gravel in his wake. Amid the noise and his hurry to get back on the road, Remy almost missed the low rumble of the truck as it followed suit and pulled out onto the street behind him. For the next hundred miles or so, Remy kept a wary eye behind him for any signs of the beat-up brown pickup truck. 

Long after Remy had lost any sign of the truck as he sped down the interstate crossing from Ohio to Indiana and beyond, the uncanny feeling of someone following him remained. He cursed under his breath. Contacting Rogue again would need to wait until he was certain that no one was on his tail.


	2. The Search Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Remy's call home drops halfway through their conversation, Rogue decides to find out what happened to her husband. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Remy continues on his road trip.

Sleep had not been in the cards for Rogue that night. She’d tossed and turned over half the night and when she finally managed to drift towards unconsciousness, sleep attacked in fits and starts which neither relaxed nor eased. It felt like someone had snuck a pea under her mattress, then expected her to get a good night’s rest. 

With no one to talk to, a hoarse and cracked sardonic laugh was the first sound to escape her lips that morning as she imagined how the scenario would have played out if she could have made her complaint to her husband. Remy would have teased her about claiming to be a princess, before capturing her mouth in sensuous kisses and proclaiming her his queen. 

She coughed, clearing her throat—if not her thoughts as well. She didn’t want to simply fantasize about her Remy, she wanted him. With the way she was feeling, it was highly unlikely she would have a decent night’s sleep until Remy returned. Or, at least, until she heard from him again. Even with three cats filling the empty space, their bed felt too large and too lonely without her husband holding her close. 

As dawn crested the eastern horizon, Rogue sat at the window with her knees pulled up to her chest and a now cold mug of coffee cradled in her hands. A blanket was tucked around her shoulders like a protective shield. What it protected her from, she didn’t know, but it carried the warm, spicy scent she associated with Remy.

Staring blankly into the middle distance, she neither saw nor perceived the city below as it began to wake. Her eyes burned with the lack of sleep and her heart ached with the strain of constant foreboding. Unable to prepare for the worst and likewise unable to hope for the best, she sat frozen in place as though time alone would somehow bring about the answers she sought. 

Lucifer jumped up on the ledge, unsettling the half filled mug and spilling its contents across the carpet. Finally returning to her senses, Rogue unfolded from her seat and began sopping up the mess with the corner of her blanket. A ghost of a smile tugged on her lips while she scolded the cat, “Careful, sugah. What’s Remy gonna say about this mess? He’s gonna know it was ya.” 

She choked on the thought. Over the past year, it had become so natural. Remy. The cats. Her little family. Only part of it was missing. Her movements became mechanical, spreading the stain instead of cleaning it. 

The unrepentant culprit licked her hand as she worked, his rough tongue rasped her knuckles. “All right kitty, Ah get the picture. Ah’ll get ya your breakfast. But, no more messes, ‘kay?”

The orange cat flicked his tail dismissively and led the way to the kitchen. Slowly, Rogue gathered the blanket and got her her feet. A dark splotch marred the fine, soft weave and when she draped it over her shoulders, Remy’s subtle scent was overwhelmed by the aroma of coffee. Swallowing back the surge of emotion clawing up the back of her throat, she turned her focus to treating the stain before it set. She needed to keep busy. 

Returning to the kitchen, she found Oliver and Figaro already waiting. Lucifer met her approach with a plaintive mew and an entirely too innocent expression on his face. She couldn’t stay upset with him. The three cats mewed at their food bowls as though they were starving and no one had fed them in days. (Blatantly untrue, but who was to argue with cats?) Thankful for a task she could accomplish—for the fact that _someone_ needed her—Rogue rummaged through the cabinets in search of the cat treats. 

As she tossed the cats their treats, she slid her new phone from the pocket in her pajama pants and checked for any new messages. No texts, no voicemails, not even any e-mails. She sighed, poured food into the cats’ bowls and placed the phone on the counter. Since replacing the phone yesterday, the device hadn’t been out of arms reach. Though, it appeared even this precaution to keep from missing a call was largely in vain. Nobody had called. 

It wasn’t surprising her friends hadn’t called. Everyone knew she had plans and most of them respected her privacy enough not to bother her with frivolities while she celebrated with her husband. Obviously, they didn’t know about the change of plans and she hadn’t been eager to broadcast her unexpected solitude either. As for family, Kurt knew better than to call this weekend and it wasn’t likely that Momma would call either. If Mystique wanted to talk to her, it’d be in person—and probably deviously. Outside of friends and family, she didn’t receive many calls. 

No, she’d been waiting for Remy or Kitty to respond to any of the dozen messages she left on their respective phones. While neither party returned her calls, disappointment waged battle with worry for dominance in her chest. How hard was it to make a simple phone call? 

She knew Kitty was probably busy as she prepared to head out on her Excalibur reunion mission, but surely she could take two minutes to explain her reasons for sending Remy off without his wife. If she had the opportunity to actually talk to Kitty instead of leaving a series of increasingly irritated messages which cut off mid-rant, Rogue was certain she could talk Kitty around to letting her know the mission details and even possibly join Remy. 

Or, maybe not. Rogue let out a long harsh breath that blew the white fringe out of her eyes. If she found out Kitty was purposely avoiding her calls…. Well, Rogue hadn’t quite figured out what she was going to do yet, but it certainly wasn’t going to be pleasant. 

In the meantime, she continued to wait for Remy. She didn’t like how abruptly their call had ended. Absently, she spun the phone in circles against the marble countertop. If Remy had tried calling again, she received neither hide nor hair of any message. She worried at her bottom lip.

Sure, sure. He could more than handle himself. He didn’t need her babysitting him on a mission any more than she needed him babysitting her. But, she hadn’t yet been able to kick the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong. It left her out of sorts and testy. Needing something to distract herself, she swallowed the remaining dregs of her coffee. She made a face at the mug as she spat out the cold, poorly brewed sludge which had settled at the bottom of the mug. The remnants appeared to be equal parts grounds to liquid. 

She threw an irritated grimace in Lucifer’s last known direction, only to find that the cat had finished with his breakfast and absconded from the kitchen. Only Oliver remained. He twined around her feet until she reached down and gave him some attention. Satisfied, he too left the kitchen for parts unknown. Once again alone with her thoughts, Rogue turned her attention to brewing a fresh pot of coffee. This time she was careful to keep the filter from folding down on itself and ruining another pot.

Despite busy hands, her brain continued to ruminate over her missing husband. Of course there were times, particularly when he was on Guild business, when Remy dropped off the face of the earth for a few days. There had even been a few cases when he’d been gone for a couple of weeks. Even then he always told her more about those jobs than he was saying about this one. Heck, even she’d been on missions which required radio silence. And none of those ever left her feeling this uneasy. 

Unable to let things stand as they were, she dialed his number from memory. The phone didn’t even ring once before an emotionless female voice answered, “The number you dialed is unavailable or out of service. Please hang up and call again.” 

“Damn,” she growled. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Rogue released it slowly, calming herself before she needed to replace her phone again. 

Part of her had feared this exact scenario when Remy’s call had come in yesterday from his cell, popping up on her screen with his name and picture. He’d left home without a burner. And, if this mission was as hush-hush as he’d implied, then he wouldn’t likely hold onto his phone for long. He’d have a new number soon (if he didn’t already) and she wouldn’t know what it was until he broke protocol and called her. 

All right. She had enough of this. If Kitty wasn’t going to answer. If Remy had to toss his phone. She was going to get to the bottom of this. On her own, if need be. 

The cats had been fed and she was already in the process of making more coffee, she should probably see to feeding herself. While she wasn’t particularly hungry, she would need energy if she was going to carry out the plan beginning to formulate in her head. As she opted for one of the leftover pastries from yesterday morning, she couldn’t quite recall if she’d eaten dinner or not the night before.

Snagging another pastry, she filled a new mug with coffee from the fresh pot. While she sipped at the hot coffee, she rifled through a drawer of miscellaneous papers. She’d seen what she was looking for the other day when she was searching for stamps. Finally, at the bottom of the stack, she found it—an old, battered, out-of-date U.S. Street Atlas. She had purchased it a few years back when she’d made her own cross country trek. The edges of the cover had grown soft and fuzzy with time and use. A little like memories ought to do, though not for her. 

She flipped among the dogeared pages as she traced the most direct route from New York to Ohio. With the tip of her finger, she traced the highway route across multiple pages, only pausing when she reached the Pennsylvania-Ohio border. Biting her bottom lip, Rogue attempted to mentally juggle the myriad of variables. Distance, time, and speed were all variables she could only guess. When he called, he said he was about an hour into Ohio. And, in most states, the average speed limit on the interstate was between 65 to 70 miles per hour. Near cities, the trend was for traffic to slow, while the open expanse of road between towns tended to encourage a pushing of the limits. She wondered if that would balance out any variations in speed. If any of this was slightly correct, she could theoretically place Remy about 65 to 70 miles within the state at around one pm yesterday afternoon. 

Then again,that would only be an estimate. If he drove over—or, as unlikely as it sounded, under—the speed limit, or if he had over- or underestimated his time in the state….Well, she’d need to give herself quite a wide margin of err. 

Steadily she attacked the high school math, scratching figures on a yellow legal pad. The work quickly grew tedious, but she didn’t allow that to deter her. She was determined to figure out the most likely location from where Remy had called. 

Because, if she knew her husband (and there was no doubting that fact), then Remy would have left her some sign. He would have found some way to let her know that he was okay, because he knew that she wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. 

****

Rogue hovered over I-80 westbound and followed the familiar strip of highway to the next stop on her quest to find where her husband had been. The task had already taken the majority of the morning and had rolled into the early afternoon. She had long since lost track of the number of gas stations she had investigated. At this point she was almost certain she’d visited more than one location at least twice—to no avail. The sun was high in the sky, unrelentingly warm against her skin. Her hair clung to her neck in sweaty clumps and she was pretty certain the tip of her nose and the tops of her ears were beginning to glow the rosy pink of sunburn. 

The problem was, Remy had been rather vague about his location when they’d talked the day before. Since she had heard the rush of the interstate over the phone, she figured he hadn’t been far off the road when he’d stopped for gas. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the only clue she had to where her man might have been a day ago. She had no idea of his destination, or if he’d even been telling her the truth when he said Ohio. Or, maybe he’d turned off the interstate after fueling his motorcycle and was now breaking into a grain silo somewhere in the middle of the Midwest. 

Unwilling to give up before she worked her way through every gas station along the way, Rogue pushed on despite the growing weight of futility. Even with all her math, this whole endeavor was a bit like finding a needle in a hay stack. Any or all of her solutions could easily be in vain. 

It only worked if he was followed the rules of the road and both his and her estimates were close to reality. Remy was driving his motorcycle on a cross country drive. Which, she knew from personal experience traveling with him, meant that he liked to push things to the limits of what was possible. But, if his mission required a certain level of discretion, he’d probably be playing things a bit closer to civilian—or as close to civilian as a man with red eyes could ever be—until he was ready to act. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to himself with a speeding ticket. 

Frustrated as much with herself as she was with the situation, Rogue was tired of second guessing herself. This had sounded like a good plan when she’d left their apartment. She’d already stopped at countless gas stations, convenience stores, and diners located just off the interstate with no results. The only thing which kept her going was the hope she might find someone who had seen her man. Unfortunately, either folks hadn’t been working the day before, or they hadn’t seen anyone who matched Remy’s description. And, Remy was a hard man to miss. 

With a sigh, she landed along the drive of the next gas station on her list. One more, she told herself, then she’d break for lunch and rework her strategy. 

She dug her toe into the gravel along the drive. Nearby a charred crater had recently upset the gravel in a familiar pattern. Her heart skipped a beat, before she could make a better examination of her surroundings. It wouldn’t do to get her hopes up if this turned out to be another dead end. A quick survey of the area offered little more than a sea of rolling fields which reached out to the horizon. Though she could hear the rush of traffic from the interstate, there wasn’t evidence of another living person in sight. Rogue couldn’t help but indulge in a smirk. Remy hated this kind of place. He was a city boy through and through. The lack of a skyline and the continuous bustle of humanity made him antsy. She could imagine him, stopping at a place like this to fuel up his bike. It wouldn’t take long—less time than it took to fill the tank—and he’d be looking for something to distract him. A call home would do the trick. 

There was no one at the pumps. Even if there was, they’d be unlikely to be of any help in her quest. Far as she knew, people didn’t tend to hang out at gas stations on a daily basis unless they worked there. Which left Rogue heading for the small, drab, brick building and the only signs of life in the area. 

A chime sounded as Rogue entered the gas station. She blinked away the black spots dancing across her vision with the sudden dimness of the interior after the brilliant outdoors. Beyond the rows of low metal shelving cluttered with bags of chips and stacks of candy bars, the farther shelves were filled with loaves of bread and cans of soup. The coolers lining the edge of the room, offered a full selection of drinks from gallons of milk to bottles of soda to six-packs of beer. From the ancient radio perched along the counter, a country music station paused for a station ID and ad break. It almost felt like she was back down in Caldecott County. 

The girl was scarcely more than eighteen. Probably in college and home over summer break. Her blonde hair was braided into twin pigtails, but other than that, there was nothing of the girl about her. Rogue recognized the type—the small town girl trying so hard to grow up and get away. The town felt like a trap, holding her too tight. She’d eventually get away and then a few years down the line, the girl, now a woman, would want to go home. Only to find it was too late, that home didn’t exist anymore. Occasionally, Rogue felt a similar regret, but her childhood home hadn’t been home for a long time, not after Cody. Especially not after her time with Mystique and the Brotherhood. Rogue shook her head, clearing her thoughts. None of this really mattered, not anymore. She had a new home. Now, home was with Remy and she was more than okay with that. 

“Can I help you?” The girl shifted under the intensity of Rogue’s gaze. She pushed her cell phone to the side. “You needing gas?”

“No, Ah don’ need any gas today, but maybe ya can help me with something’ else.” Rogue approached the counter wishing for the umpteenth time that day she had even a modicum of Remy’s charm. That would make this whole exercise easier. “Were ya workin’ yesterday afternoon?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty quiet, but sure, I was here.” 

“Mah husband and Ah were supposed to meet up ‘round here yesterday, but we got our wires crossed. Think Ah might have gotten the wrong exit.” Rogue allowed her dialect to come out thick. Something about her southern drawl tended to disarm folks. 

“Did you try calling him?” The girl’s fingers itched to pick up her phone. 

Rogue smiled sadly and shook her head. “‘Fraid my phone broke—part of the whole crossed wire thing. Ah ended up needin’ to get a whole new number so he can’t call me neither. Thought it someone had seen him, Ah could track him down in a jiffy.”

The girl shrugged. “As I said, things were quiet, but I’ll help if I can.”

“Thank ya kindly, sugah.” Rogue grinned brightly and leaned conversationally against the counter. “Let’s see now, he was ridin’ his motorcycle and wearin’ a brown duster, even in this heat. He’s about so tall—” Rogue waved her hand over her head approximating Remy’s height, “—and has auburn hair that kind of flops all over the place. He has a smile that could knock the socks off ya.” 

“And an accent to die for.” The girl grinned dreamily, lost in a reminiscence of yesterday before blushing an impressive scarlet. She must have finally remembered Rogue had said she was looking for her missing husband. “I mean, yeah, there was a guy here yesterday who meets your description. He paid cash before filling up. I didn’t see him again ’til he left. I mean, I remember that, ‘cause it sounded like someone had let off a firework or something and when I went to check and make sure nothing was wrong, the bike was still out front but he was no where to be seen.” 

“Thanks sugah, you’ve helped a ton.” Rogue couldn’t help smiling. At the moment, she couldn’t care less if the girl had fancied her man or not. After all, if she got jealous every time someone crushed on Remy, she’d be jealous every time they went out. Besides, she knew her man only had eyes for her and that’s all that mattered. “Do ya have any idea where he might of gone when he disappeared?”

The girl shrugged. “Probably just to stretch his legs. There’s nothing around here but the old phone booth around back—and even that is just an empty shell.” 

“You’re right. Probably stretchin’. It’s a long drive up from Louisiana.” 

“Mm-hmm,” She had that dreamy look on her face again. Rogue couldn’t blame the girl; more than once she’d seen that same expression staring back at her from the mirror. 

“All right then. Think Ah must be on the right track. Bye now.” Rogue nodded her thanks one last time and made her way back out into the blinding sun. 

As she stood beside the gas pumps, she spied the sun-faded blue and white phone sign. She slipped around the corner and found the phone booth just as empty as the girl had described it. The corner of a two of clubs peeked out from the corner of the booth. Carefully, Rogue pulled the card out from where it was wedged. Half of the card was crumbled and wouldn’t lie flat. Still, he’d left her a sign. He’d been here. He’d tried to finish his call. 

She grinned as she tucked the card into her pocket with the King of Hearts he’d left behind the day before. Her gamble had paid off. Remy had left her a sign. 

*****

He’d driven too late into the night, pushing his physical and mental limits until the yellow and white lines on the road wobbled and blurred before him. There hadn’t been any other traffic on the road for at least an hour and he wasn’t certain when the clock had ticked from today to tomorrow. When he didn’t think it was possible to stay upright on his bike any longer, he stopped at the first no-name motel with a blinking vacancy sign he came across. Without speaking more than a half dozen words he laid down the cash for his room, signed a nom de plume in the register, and collapsed into the bed for a few hours of sleep. He never even saw the small, shabby room in daylight. 

Fueled by coffee and determination, Remy pushed on at the grueling pace until he reached a small town outside of Bismarck, North Dakota. He’d stopped to pick up a real meal and wait out a passing thunderstorm. From behind the protective barrier of the sheet glass windows, Remy watched as the rain waned to a drizzle. If it kept decreasing at this pace, he could probably be back on the road in fifteen minutes. He rubbed his eyes and pressed his palms against his eyelids, hoping to relieve the pressure building behind them. 

“Can I get you anything else, sugar?” The waitress—Jenny—asked as she refilled his coffee. 

He turned from the window and beamed his languid, lopsided grin up at her like he didn’t have a care in the world. She returned the gesture with a grin which held a similar easy charm. Though she spoke in midwest dialect, Remy started every time she called him sugar. Hearing that familiar epithet in a voice so different from the one he longed to hear it from, left him feeling slightly at odds. From their limited interaction, he liked Jenny and the way she called him—and every other customer—‘sugar’ reminded him pleasantly of Rogue. It also left a sharp pang of longing in his heart. Shoving a hand into the outer pocket of his duster, he ran a thumb over the screen of his phone, but didn’t pull it out of his pocket. If he unlocked the screen, there’d be a picture of him and Rogue smiling up at him. 

Instead, he changed the topic. “How ‘bout a slice of pie?”

“What flavor? We got all the usual…” 

“Surprise me, chère.” He leaned closer, a spark of mischief in his red eyes as he slipped into the familiar pattern of playful flirtation. 

“Hmm,” she tapped the pen against her chin and studied him closely. The ring on fourth finger glinted in the light. “I got just the thing.”

He didn’t watch as she headed back to the counter to serve up a slice of mystery pie. The ring on her hand and the one on his had kept the flirting light and carefree. In fact, it’d left it more along the lines of friendly banter than flirting. She wasn’t interested in him as anything more than the story of another traveller a long way from home. And he appreciated the reminder of home. 

_Dieu_ , he missed her. His wife, not the waitress. Instead of his phone, he pulled out his wallet and flipped to the photo of Rogue stuck in one of the clear plastic sleeves. It was a candid shot of Rogue from their wedding day. She’d been caught mid-laugh while she sought to contain the wind blown edge of her borrowed veil as it attacked his face. It was a good memory. 

“That your wife, sugar? She’s pretty.” Jenny asked as she returned with the slice of pie. 

“Oui,” Remy slid the slice to pie closer and pierced the flaky crust with the tines of his fork. He hesitated, suddenly feeling moisture gathering in his eyes. “Is dis boysenberry?”

“Sure is. You got it in one. I know, I know, it’s an unusual choice, but it’s my husband’s favorite. Since I make the pies around here, I try to keep it in rotations among all the apple and peach pies. If you don’t like it, I can get you something else…” Her voice trailed off as a familiar shadow of missing and longing settled in her hazel eyes. 

“Non, it’s perfect. Boysenberry is my wife’s specialty.” He swallowed back the rising lump of emotion at the memory of Rogue’s promised pie, which remained at home uneaten. 

Her smile flickered for a moment with a knowing sadness. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand. My husband drives a big rig, which means he’s on the road quite a bit. So yeah, I recognize that far away look. You miss her.” 

Remy nodded and savored the first bite. It was good. Not as good a Rogue’s, but that was an impossible standard to meet. “It’s good, chère. Merci.”

“I know it is.” The teasing spark returned to Jenny’s eyes. “Though, I take it that it’s not as good as your wife’s—suppose I can’t blame ya. Course, my husband would disagree with you. He drives across the country on a regular basis and claims mine is the best pie he’s ever tasted.” She laughed at the memory, a cheery interruption to the beginning of maudlin thoughts. “Then again, I have a feeling you’re both a bit biased.” 

“I reckon you’re right ‘bout dat.” Remy scooped up a forkful of the berry filling. Sweetness with just a touch of tart burst across his tongue. 

She grinned. “Just holler if you need anything, ‘kay?”

“Will do…” He sank back into the booth and stared out the window as Jenny headed over to check on the other diners. 

The rain had cleared and the pale sun pushed past the grey cloud cover. He glimpsed his faint reflection in the window and shied away from the accusing red stare. _“I ain’t runnin’ away,”_ he argued with himself for the hundredth time this trip. And, he wasn’t. He had a job to do and that was exactly what he was doing. Should be simple as that. 

Then, why didn’t it feel that way? He knew how it would look to the others at the Mansion. Many of them didn’t think too highly of him and it would appear as if he’d just left Rogue on their anniversary with nary a word. They had never really gotten over his past mistakes, and they still held them against him. He could only imagine what they’d say now. His only comfort was knowing that under the hurt of being left behind, Rogue would know the truth of the matter. She knew he would never leaver her. And her opinion was the only one that truly mattered. 

The energy under his skin thrummed. If he didn’t charge something soon, he felt as though he might explode. He lightly ran the tip of his thumbnail over the picture of Rogue before snapping the wallet shut and redirecting his energy into finishing his pie and coffee. His nerves were so jangled that he didn’t want to risk inadvertently turning his wallet into in an incendiary device. 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots until it hurt. It’d been less than forty-eight hours since he left home. Over the time they had known each other, there had been a myriad of other occasions where he’d been away from Rogue for longer than this without this much inner turmoil. Even after they were married, it wasn’t like they were literally attached at the hip. So, why now? What made this job different than the others?

It could be a bit of empathetic feedback, he supposed. When he last talked to her, Rogue was clearly distraught and her distress was feeding his, which was likely feeding back into hers. A vicious loop made all the worse by not being able to settle matters. She nearly begged him to come home. And, he knew that she wouldn’t have done that unless she thought something was seriously wrong. Normally he’d say the distance between them would limit the effects of his empathy, but this was Rogue. Everything was different with her. 

Putting down his fork, Remy breathed deeply, reigning in his emotions. He reinforced his mental shields and attempted to lock down all the emotions that weren’t essential for this job. It irked him to know that while he could settle his own nerves, he couldn’t do much to help Rogue at this distance. Still, it would allow him to focus and get the job done. The sooner he accomplished his task, the sooner he could return home. And, that would do both of them a world of good. Though calmer than he was before, the gnawing unease still simmered in the pit of his stomach. 

Or, maybe it had more to do with how he left things with Rogue—in the middle. A partial phone call. An interrupted celebration. Incomplete information. He was haunted by the mental picture of Rogue lying on their bed, waiting for him to return. Oh, he knew she wasn’t still there. She wasn’t the kind to pine away when she could be out there kicking over stones until she found what she was looking for. But, that didn’t make him feel any better. He’d left her without a word. Like he’d left so many things in his past. Habits he didn’t want to return to. His relationship with Rogue was worth fighting for, he wouldn’t run, no matter how hard things got. 

He cupped his hands around the mug, warmth seeped through the ceramic and into his exposed fingertips. Hindsight said he should have defied Kitty, gone back to the apartment and explained. He should have made certain Rogue knew what was happening….

Remy blinked as he caught sight of a brown pick-up idling outside the diner at the town’s only stoplight. A double-take later, Remy tried to convince himself it was only a coincidence and he could finish his pie in piece. He couldn’t swear that it was the same truck he’d seen in Ohio. And, despite the green John Deere baseball cap resting on the dashboard, the driver had a tall, lean silhouette, which appeared almost too tall for the cab. 

The stoplight turned green and the truck moved on. Who was he kidding? Coincidence or not, it was obvious he needed to cover his tracks better as he hit the road. Remy threw more than enough cash on the table to cover his bill and still leave a generous tip. He winked at Jenny and headed out to his bike. It didn’t take Remy long to find the tracking device slipped onto the handlebars. 

“Merde.” Pocketing the tracker, Remy swore more loudly than he meant. The few pedestrians making their way across the street cast concerned glances in his direction. He turned his grimace into a self-deprecating grin, patted his pockets, and grumbled good-naturedly about forgetting his keys. 

When he was certain everyone had returned to minding their own business, he pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and drew another random card from the deck—a six of spades. He hesitated only a moment before making a small slit along the seam in the bike’s leather seat, folding the card, and sliding it into the opening. 

Without a look back, Remy jammed his fists into his pockets and strolled casually down the street like he knew exactly where he was going. He was going to miss that bike, but it was marked now. Pausing as if to tie his shoe, Remy stopped beside the first motorcycle he passed and planted the tracker. For half a second he felt sorry for the poor sap, but, so far, whoever was following him appeared content to simply watch from a distance. The misdirection should buy Remy some time and distance. 

Now, needed a new vehicle. Probably something that would take the coming mountains with a bit of ease. It’d been a while since he’d ‘borrowed’ a car, but he wasn’t completely out of practice. Stopping at a parking lot near the edge of town, it only took a moment to determine that there weren’t any cameras watching before he set about to doing his shopping. 

After surveying the options, Remy selected a four wheel drive Jeep. It was old enough that he didn’t need to worry about all the computerized systems gumming up the works, while still being in good nick. Someone had obviously cared for this vehicle. He’d make certain it was returned when he done with it. As luck would have it, the car was unlocked and when he pulled down the driver side visor, a set of keys fell onto his lap. There was something to say about small towns where people felt secure enough to leave their front doors unlocked and their keys in the car. He was sorry to disabuse them of the notion, but in the long run, he told himself, this was probably a good lesson for them. 

Just one more piece of business before leaving town. 

Remy pulled his phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket. Unlocking the device, he stared long and hard of the picture of him and Rogue on the screen before nuking all the information on the phone. He already had all the important numbers and information stored on the device memorized. The only thing he’d miss was hearing Rogue’s voice in the ever increasing number of messages. He could pick up a burner next time he stopped. But, if someone was already on his tail, he couldn’t risk another call home. When the mission was over... Remy shook his head, he would deal with the consequences when the time came. It was well past time for him to be back on the road. 

Despite the device being only an empty shell of its former usefulness, Remy hesitated for a moment. With a sigh, he wiped the phone clean of prints before infusing it with a kinetic charge and tossing it high up in the air and as far from his present location as he could manage. The resulting fuchsia explosion would be a beacon to his location for anyone who knew of his powers. 

Pausing only long enough to rummage through the glove box, Remy found a battered U.S. Street Atlas and threw it onto the passenger seat. He would need to make a detour, but re-routing his trip could wait until he put some distance between himself and this town. 

Careful to follow every traffic law and remain inconspicuous for as long as possible, Remy made his way back onto the interstate. He hoped this mission was worth the cost.


End file.
